Praying for sleep after a warm bath,
lavender tea, chocolate jelly beans,
things meant to dull pain.
My hair is sopping, bleeding into my pillow
the pillow with the little angels on it.
I hold it close, pretend it is a boy,
an odd, square boy.
Why did he have to go? And why
am I left lying in a lonely bed
clutching a damp pillow.